


First Contact

by Trigaynometry



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Rough Sex, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22702015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trigaynometry/pseuds/Trigaynometry
Summary: A story about Marth's uncontrolled pining.
Relationships: Marth/Roy (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to x_snackpack for reading through this multiple times and editing.  
> I desperately needed it.

It seemed to take off suddenly. What started out as a few meetings soon became more. And eventually, Marth and Roy appeared publicly with the other in tow. They were each other's preferred partners, but such a detail went relatively unnoticed by the other competitors.

Marth enjoyed Roy's company. He had matured so much since the first time Marth had seen him. Despite this, Roy remained a vision of his younger self: determined and earnest. Marth found comfort in that consistency; the fact that he and Roy shared a similar culture helped as well. Roy's presence staved off Marth's loneliness; his homesickness. That was more than enough to keep the fledgling prince around. Marth would have been content with just this much.

But as each day passed, he noticed something different, something new, about his companion. He had never before noticed the freckles painted from cheek to cheek that framed Roy's eyes, which were a much deeper blue than Marth's own. They sparkled much brighter: fueled by Roy's spirit. His hair moved like fire when the wind brushed through it. And, _wow_ , was his waist always so small compared to his shoulders?

With those passing glances, Marth found himself examining Roy more closely. And when Roy would meet Marth's gaze, the prince would fluster and look away as his cheeks turned color. It was embarrassing, to be so...enthralled by someone he considered his closest companion.

_What would Roy think if he knew how closely I observed him?_

Certainly, he concluded, Roy would have found it uncomfortable. This behaviour was unbecoming, yet Marth couldn't overcome his weakness. It became increasingly difficult to avoid staring at Roy when he entered the room. Gregarious as he was and assisted by his unusually bright hair, he already captured attention. But Marth, even from a distance, couldn't help but notice that the ends of Roy's lips curled up delicately when he smiled; that he crinkled his nose and squinted a bit when he gave a cheeky grin; that he tilted his head back when he laughed from the stomach.

Marth's chest tightened as he was coming out of his daze. He had done it again. How could his will be so flimsy? He brushed his fringe behind his ear, turning away from Roy to hide his guilt while waiting for the discomfort in his chest to subside. But it wouldn't. And as it became suffocating, Marth retreated to his room.

When the prince opened his door, the welcoming quiet eased his tense chest. He slipped in and closed the door behind him, pressing his back to it to remind him that he was safe here. With one deep exhale, Marth gained the strength to peel himself from the walls and trudge to his bed. Unceremoniously, he collapsed into the mattress, letting the ample pillows and bedding consume him. His eyelids, heavy, fluttered closed and Marth drifted off.

Roy happened to be in the kitchen when Marth emerged from his slumber. The prince woke thirsty and, had he not been so parched, would have rathered avoid Roy entirely. The silence between them hung low in the air; Marth felt its entirety crushing him. In a panic, he grabbed a glass from a shelf, quickly went for the sink, filled up the glass. He turned around, met with unusually stormy eyes.

“You’re running from me.” 

The young man approached, towering over Marth as he leaned back over the sink, clutching his glass protectively. Marth had never heard Roy use such an accusatory tone before.

“What are you afraid of?” Roy punctuated the silence again while giving Marth a once-over.

“I’m not afraid,” he replied curtly, irritated by the accurate implication.

The right corner of Roy’s lips curled: a haughty smirk stretching across his face. He gave Marth an amused scoff before advancing, leaving only centimeters between his and the prince’s bodies. Roy’s gaze traced Marth’s form--down his porcelain cheek, across his delicate neck, over the ridge between pectorals that his oversized nightshirt exposed.

Realizing his indecency, Marth clutched his nightshirt tight, hoping to avoid debauching himself any further.

 _But you deserve this. This...this is penance_.

Of course, this is surely how uncomfortable Roy felt. Now, the young man was just returning the favor. Marth put his glass down and released the grip on his shirt, offering Roy whatever views he pleased. Perhaps only twenty seconds passed, though, before Marth put his hand onto Roy’s shoulder, pushing it away gently.

“If there’s nothing else you have to say to me,” he began sheepishly, “I would very much like to retire for the night.” He expected no resistance so, when he felt a needlessly strong grip on his fingers, he winced. 

“I’m not done here.”

There was something dangerous in Roy’s voice. It ignited terror in Marth. Who was this man? This wasn’t the Roy he knew. But Marth, too fearful to rebuke his companion, just let out an utterly pitiable whimper. It was something that Roy appeared to revel in as he chuckled immediately following. Emboldened by Marth’s hesitance, Roy pressed their bodies together. He was considerably larger than Marth and made for an oppressive presence in such close quarters. The prince knew the odds of winning a fight unarmed were devastatingly low, so all he could do was wait until Roy expended his curiosity. 

Roy inched his face closer to Marth’s. Under different circumstances, this would have fulfilled Marth’s indulgent fantasies. Those adored freckles did not suit this Roy, Marth reasoned. And that realization left a painful longing for the sweeter, more charming version of his companion. Roy, lacing his fingers between those of Marth’s captive hand, broke the prince out of his pining. Marth felt Roy’s supple lips ghost over his. His mouth parted with the gentle prompting of Roy’s tongue. Marth exhaled into the intrusion and they kissed softly, fingers still interwoven.

So taken by the kiss was Marth that he didn’t notice Roy’s encroaching knee until it parted his thighs. A quivering breath escaped his lips as the friction Roy created fueled Marth’s libidinous desires. Everywhere Roy touched carved a lingering sensation into Marth’s body and it arched in spite of itself.

The adventurous fingers slid lower on Marth’s back until they came to rest in the cleft of his cheeks, prodding curiously at his entry. 

_Wait, no...no. This is not right!_

_Stop!_

Marth jolted awake. His face felt clammy and damp. He had been sweating. What was that? His hand came to rest on his chest. His heartbeat was erratic. His breathing, heavy. Who on earth dreams of such things? And, how could they be so...real? He slapped his cheeks with considerable force...just to be sure. 

Yes, he was definitely awake.

The rest of the day had been tainted by the events of that morning. Marth, in addition to excessive fatigue, couldn’t bear to even look in Roy’s direction lest he want everyone to see what his uncontrollable body might do. The only reprieve was usually in the showers, when Marth would draw the curtain, soak in a tub, and let all the worries wash away with the bathwater.

 _Roy is a decent individual,_ Marth thought. _There isn’t a chance he would accept my behaviour. How could I let this happen?_

His fingertips ghosted over his legs, checking again that he was in his body. He was. And his hands settled, cradling his arms close to his body as he decided this was some kind of protracted nightmare come reality.

His eyes were warm with gathering tears. What was wrong with him? He chastised himself for those impure thoughts toward his unsuspecting friend; his punishment was the absence of the person for whom he cared. He deserved this. He deserved this until he could rein in his errant thoughts. And the pain was profound.

Marth, helpless, cried alone.


	2. Chapter 2

The next two days immediately following his breakdown, Marth began to participate in life as usual with the other competitors. He had cried a little too much that night and it exhausted him of emotion. Perhaps, though, this was a blessing in disguise since he was too drained to feel anything untoward when in Roy's presence.

In passing, they exchanged a few words--the " _how are you_ "s and the " _I'm fine_ "s. Formalities. And Marth always offered a polite smile before parting. Those couple of days, he didn't notice anything novel about his friend.

Peace, it seemed, had returned to him and that set his heart at ease. Those nights, he slept without incident. But the third night, there was a knock on the door.

He had been reading at the time and the firm taps caused his heart to leap. He never had callers this late, but Roy was certainly the last person he expected.

Roy stood behind the doorway. His body was upright, but his face subtly betrayed his sadness. His brows furrowed ever so slightly. His lips were firm and straight. And, Marth noticed, he couldn't hold eye contact for more than a couple seconds: his gaze fell away when Marth returned his look.

"Can…I help you?"

"It's not something we should talk about with the door open."

" _Please_ , can it not wait till morning? It's so late."

Roy frowned. He looked particularly downtrodden at the suggestion, but said nothing. Marth, receiving no response, bade him goodnight and began closing the door. He promised they could talk tomorrow--at first light, even. But that wasn't good enough.

Roy planted his foot in the closing doorway and pushed his way in. Marth, taken aback, simply stepped away as he closed them in.

" _It can't wait._ "

In the moonlight, Marth could see Roy's eyes glistening. Whatever it was he needed to talk about, it was evidently agitating him. It seemed the man had no other recourse, so Marth obliged and listened.

"Have I done something? You suddenly just disappeared...or more like... _you're ignoring me_."

He spoke with such earnesty. The way he glanced away while talking like he was wracking his brain for answers to Marth's behaviour. That frustrated inhale between sentences to calm his nerves. His hands moving theatrically as if his words alone couldn't express the tumult of emotions he suffered. Marth had never noticed _any_ of this before, or rather, he had never given Roy reason to act as such.

Yet Marth had still to respond. He shook his head, affirming it was nothing of Roy's doing. Of course not, this rest entirely on Marth...but he couldn't tell Roy that.

His answer wasn't satisfactory, though. Roy stepped forward, backing Marth toward a wall. He demanded answers--demanded to know what was bothering Marth, because clearly, _something_ was.

Marth stuttered, shook his head, denied everything. He promised he would keep Roy's company more if only he would please leave!

Roy's eyebrows twitched, then his face darkened. Marth knew Roy saw his words for what they were, a convenient escape. And now, Roy was seething. Marth felt a hand grab his jaw; fingers unapologetically pressing into his cheeks. A moment later, Roy pulled Marth close and his lips met Marth's desperately. With his eyes closed, Roy looked angelic despite the unbridled force only seconds ago. _Gods_ , he was impeccable.

Marth, in spite of himself, let out a faltering moan. His mouth fell open and Roy capitalized with an exploratory tongue. Then, he pulled away gently, grip on Marth's chin relenting. It was too soon for Marth whose wanton whimpers lingered in the silence.

"Company isn't enough anymore," Roy murmured between salacious breaths.

"I understand."

Roy was unexpectedly gentle, undoing every button on Marth’s nightshirt meditatively before sliding his palm over Marth’s hips. His hands were rough, Marth noted, calloused from all the years he had trained with the sword. Against the most sensitive parts of Marth’s body, those hands were electrifying. He moaned as Roy’s hands ascended, fingers tracing the crests and ridges of Marth’s abdomen.

The glacial night air chilled Marth’s exposed body and it reacted accordingly. His stiffened nipples caught Roy’s attention. His eyes were filled with a devilish lust that accompanied the slightest of smirks. He palmed Marth’s humble chest; thumbs grazed over his nipples. Then, with a chuckle, he pinched them.

Marth threw his head back and gasped, writhing under Roy’s grasp. Shivers raced across Marth’s sensitive chest, radiating from the places Roy abused. The pain was novel, but _oh Gods_ , if Roy was going to provide, Marth would take it all.

Idle hands reached for Roy, exploring the unknown beneath his shirt. He was firm and well-toned. One would think, with how strong he appeared, that no touch would shake him. Yet, Marth felt Roy’s muscles contract beneath his fingertips. This was a new experience for him too and that knowledge was heartening. He wrapped his arms around Roy, burying his face to hide his burning blush.

Marth was too close for Roy’s needs, though. He fell away from the embrace only to press his lips to Marth’s neck. His teeth scraped against the vulnerable skin, a warning for what was to come. Marth braced, fingers digging into Roy’s back. And then Roy bit, dragging a languid moan from Marth. He was relentless in his misconduct, biting harder as Marth dragged nails down his back.

Growing tired of his garments, Roy pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside--right now, it was worthless to him. He pressed Marth against a wall, grinding his clothed erection into Marth’s hips. Marth buckled, holding Roy’s arms to keep him upright as his legs were weak. 

Against the wall, they gave clumsy, passionate kisses, and discovered the nuances of each other’s mouths: each ridge and curve examined by curious tongues. They parted for quick, frantic breaths before embracing again. Their hands hungrily fondled each other, staying no longer than moments over a particular area.

In the sensual haze, Roy pulled Marth’s pants below his hips and exposed his sensitive erection to rhythmic grinding. Marth, helplessly lost in desire, matched his pace enthusiastically. He wrapped his arms around Roy’s neck, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. Roy, on the contrary, ran his hand up Marth’s thigh, gripping it unforgivingly, and hoisting it up to his hips with a capable arm. Marth whimpered to Roy’s satisfaction.

Encouraged by Marth’s pliancy, Roy took hold of Marth’s shoulders and turned him over, slamming his body into the wall abruptly. Then, he grabbed Marth’s wrists, pinning them above his head while the prince struggled against the restraint. But Roy had the upper hand and, with strength outmatched, Marth could do nothing but cede to his will.

Marth hung his head, the sound of his stilted breathing drowning out all noise. He didn’t hear Roy discarding his shorts, nor did he hear the command Roy had given him. He was, though, met with fingers prying his lips apart.

“ _Open._ ”

Roy’s forceful tone sent excitement tearing through Marth with the intensity of a lightning strike. He pressed his ass into Roy’s bare erection while obediently taking his fingers in his mouth, lubricating them with his saliva. 

Content with Marth’s work, Roy withdrew his fingers, running them across Marth’s lower lip lasciviously.

“It might hurt,” Roy said with only the faintest concern.

“It doesn’t matter. Do it. _Please_.”

And Roy plunged his fingers into Marth. 

The sensation, so foreign, left Marth a gasping mess. His eyes looked to the ceiling, brows furrowed, as if he were praying for some divine intercession. But no god would come to his rescue, not in this state.

As Roy inserted more fingers, Marth felt the uncomfortable stretch. He pressed into Roy’s hand, hoping to speed up the process, but Roy replied with harder thrusts. Marth, defeated, simply took it lest he incur more manhandling. 

As Marth patiently waited for the preparation to end, Roy released Marth’s wrists, opting to hold his hips instead.

“Get ready.”

Marth gave his approval in a groan and Roy entered without hesitation.

Certainly the preparation was not enough. Marth felt like his body was tearing apart as Roy thrust into him. He whined, pressing a fist against the wall to cope. Roy’s reassuring hands held Marth against his body and enveloped him while he rode out his discomfort. 

Soon his pained whines became lustful moans; Roy’s name fell from his lips often. Stirred by Marth’s desires, Roy’s pace increased until he was mercilessly ploughing Marth. Roy’s low grunts churned something deep within Marth; his own cries were increasing in pitch with each well-angled thrust. 

Amidst unrestrained passion, Marth felt the soft touch of Roy’s hand over his, fingers intertwining. Tears dotted his eyes as his deepest, guilty pleasures were fulfilled and, more importantly, reciprocated. He edged closer to some inexplicable horizon and, with a well timed thrust, Marth came with a broken cry.

His legs gave way immediately and he crumpled like a falling building. Had it not been for Roy’s sturdy arm holding him up, the prince would have been a convulsing mess on the floor.

Roy finished himself off in Marth with a handful more thrusts. His shuddering breath ghosting over Marth’s ear as he knelt over his lover, legs too weak to keep him up any longer. Roy braced his arm against the wall, covering Marth with the entirety of his body. 

In silence Roy watched Marth’s chest crest and fall with each languid breath. And Marth, only just recovering from the post orgasmic haze, looked over to the man for whom he pined relentlessly.

Their eyes met.

And so too did their lips.


End file.
